According to My Bond
by JanEyrEvanescence12
Summary: Synopsis: A retelling of Batman Begins. Lydia Ducard is left with nowhere to go after Bruce Wayne destroys her home. So the young girl returns with him to Gotham City and begins a new life… Bruce Wayne x OC friendship / family
1. Ashes and Snow

According to My Bond

Disclaimer: all copyrights go to those who rightfully own them. No flames please.

Since I always put in a little introduction, this is the same story concept as _Through a Glass Darkly_ and _Sins of the Father_ put in Nolan's universe. Thanks again to my inspirations _Friend of the Knight_ and _Daughter of the Batman_.

Also, I put Harvey Dent in here and he's also a really good friend of Bruce. I think Nolan missed a big opportunity by not including him in _Begins_. Not just to make his fall in _Dark Knight_ more tragic (because we would've had more time to love him, not saying Aaron Eckhart was bad because he wasn't) but to really show Bruce's respect for Harvey and to mourn the loss of not just the White Knight (and Bruce's last chance at happiness with Rachel) but of not being able to save his friend.

With that said, enjoy and destroy. No flames please. Flames are used for roasting marshmallows.

* * *

_Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave my heart into my mouth. I love your majesty According to my bond; no more nor less. ~Cordelia, King Lear, Act 1 Scene 1~_

* * *

Ashes and Snow

Bruce Wayne gripped the unconscious body of Henri Ducard and dug his edged gauntlet deep into the glacier. It finally caught as they were hanging off the edge of the glacier. It was a long fall. He was desperate to not drop his mentor, the closest thing he had to a father. Next to loyal butler Alfred, of course. But how was he going to get the two of them back up the glacier? He didn't know how much longer the gauntlet could support both their weights. It could block sword blows and be used as a deadly weapon if necessary. But he wasn't sure if it was strong enough to hold up two men.

A rustling noise from above caught his attention. He looked up; sunlight nearly blinded him as it bounced off the glacier. As his eyesight adjusted, he saw a rope dangling down to him. Somebody was up there and knew the two of them were down there. The rope got close to his hand. Taking the hint, Bruce wrapped the end of the rope around his hand twice and tugged. The rope went taunt.

Bruce edged his way up the glacier. Eventually, he was high enough to place Ducard's body across his shoulders, which took considerable weight off his other arm. He gingerly stood up and began walking up the slippery face, using the rope as a guide.

Finally, he had made it to the top. Exhausted, he put Ducard's body down and lay beside him near the edge. Cold and crisp air burned his lungs. Off in the distance, he could hear what had been his home and training for the past four years burning. He had blown it up, rather than kill a murderer. What happened to said murderer? Had he burned up? How ironic, Bruce thought as he felt the heat burn, he saved a man from being murdered only to be roasted alive. It looked like nobody had survived the fire. So who had pulled them up?

A child's face appeared above him, answering his questions. Dressed in a black _chuba_ robe trimmed with gray wolf fur, her young face was pale and freckled. An embroidered felt cap covered her thick brown hair, hastily twisted into a braid. A golden oval locket hung around her neck. Dark blue eyes, very similar to Ducard's. "Lydia? How'd you pull us up?" Bruce gasped and sat up.

The little girl pointed at the compound's water well. The long rope that had supported them was tied around one of the wooden supports of the awning that covered the well.

"Is he ok?" she asked, sitting next to Bruce. Lydia was pointing at Ducard, her father. He saw the nervousness in her face.

"Yeah," Bruce saw his faint breathing. "He's just out cold. I need to get him to a safe place." There was a little house, maybe two miles away, on the path leading down the mountain. The little girl nodded, standing up with Bruce. He supported Ducard's body in a fireman's carry.

The sound of footsteps crunching the snow down followed him. Lydia was coming along. Just as she always had.

* * *

It's been many years since Bruce destroyed the League of Shadows compound. And I still don't know why I followed Bruce as he carried Father's body down the mountain. Maybe it was because I wanted to make sure Father got help. Or maybe it was because I had to make sure Bruce got away. He had made a deadly enemy in Father. Even as an eight year old, I understood that. I had seen what happens to those who displease Father…

Not that it matters now. All that does is that Bruce went down the mountain and I went with him.

* * *

After a while, Bruce recognized the header's house on the trail. He also realized that Lydia had stopped following him. He stopped and looked back. The girl was looking at the thick black smoke that smeared against the brilliant blue sky. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"This is the farthest from home I've ever been." She said, Bruce noticed a sadness in her voice. "And something tells me I won't be coming back."

He remembered the sadness he felt when he left Gotham all those years ago. While it had killed his parents, it was still the place he called home, the place where he grew up. The place where his friends were. "Not unusual," he said as he shifted Ducard's weight on his back. "I mean, to be sad. You did spend a long time here. At least that's what your father told me."

"That's the thing," she looked at him, confused. "I'm not sad to leave."

"Then what are you sad about?" Bruce asked as he continued walking down the path. Lydia shrugged her shoulders in response to Bruce's question. And she followed, just as she always had since the day he came at Ducard's invitation half-alive and she was at least four or five years old.

The little girl attached herself to him and toddled after him as a shadow would. At first it bothered him. Until he noticed that she spent a lot of time alone. Ducard cared about her, that much he was aware. But he treated her more like an adult than a child.

Maybe it was because he felt sorry for her. Or maybe it was because Bruce spent a good part of his life alone and knew what it was like. Whatever the reason, he bit his tongue and let her follow him. Eventually, he would look around if he noticed she wasn't with him and would slow down long enough for her to catch up with him.

They were near the house now. An older herder came out, dressed in grey sheepskins. He seemed to recognize the urgency and waved Bruce inside. Inside was simply furnished with crudely carved furniture lit by a smoky lamp. The herder gestured to a pile of grey blankets, a bed. Ducard groaned slightly as Bruce put him down on the bed. But he didn't open his eyes or respond.

Now that Ducard was safe, Bruce needed to leave. Ducard would hunt him down as soon as he got the chance. That and he needed to get back to Gotham. He needed to protect the city. There were still good people there. Like Alfred, Gordon and Harvey and…Rachel. The herder looked up, a knowing look in his dark eyes. "I won't tell him that you saved him." He said in broken Mandarin.

Bruce nodded in thanks, turning his back on his mentor. Lydia stood patiently in the doorway, looking at him. He couldn't leave her here, he realized. The cold and lonely mountain wasn't the place for a child. Ducard, if he weren't so fixated on vengeance, would agree with him.

He walked outside and held out his hand to her.

* * *

"Come on. We need to leave." Bruce said, holding out his hand. I took it and walked alongside him, down the trail and away from where I had grown up.

"Where are we going?" I asked. Not that I was afraid, because I trusted Bruce. I knew he wouldn't let me get into trouble. Father also trusted him, telling me that if something ever happened to him to do as Bruce said.

"Home," he said, not taking his eyes off the path.

I was confused. "Home's back there," I pointed behind us. "And it blew up." I was outside doing morning chores, so I hadn't seen what happened inside the compound.

"We're going to my home, where I grew up."

"And where's that?" I listened carefully. Bruce had rarely talked about his life before coming to join us.

"Gotham."

* * *

"Yes, and Alfred?…thank you. Ok. Bye." Bruce hung up and nodded his thanks to the hotel clerk before leaving. Everything had been set. The first chance he had gotten to a phone, he called his faithful butler Alfred, speaking to him for the first time in seven years. Alfred would bring the private jet to a small airfield outside Lhasa, Tibet. Bruce and Lydia were at least a day away, just enough time for Alfred to arrive.

Speaking of which…he saw the little girl sitting on a wooden bench outside, patiently waiting for him to come back. They had been walking for quite some time, a few hours at least. In either case, they were out of the mountain range of the League and heading southwest. He was hungry. No doubt Lydia was too. Bruce spotted a little store across the street.

But how were they going to get food? They didn't have any money. If it were just him, it wouldn't be a problem. But now that he had Lydia with him, he needed it.

"Bruce?" Lydia tugged on his coat elbow. He looked down and saw her holding up a gold oval locket. "Use this for food."

"Lydia…I can't do that." Bruce had often seen it around her neck.

"Take it." She said, pushing it into his hand. There was a familiar look in her eyes. "We've got to eat." Lydia sat back down before Bruce could stop her. He stood there for a few moments, realizing that he had seen Ducard in his daughter's eyes. The same look he had given Bruce when he refused to kill that man back in the compound.

Using Mandarin and bartering skills, Bruce managed to buy a loaf of bread, a first aid kit and a can of lukewarm kumquat juice for the locket. It would have to do until they could get to Lhasa. He didn't want to raise suspicions, just in case the League were around…

Sighing, he sat down on the bench next to Lydia. "We've got to make it last as we've got a long way to go until we get to Lhasa."

"I thought we were going to Gotham." Lydia asked as Bruce tore off a hunk of the bread and gave it to her.

"We are," Bruce said, helping himself to some bread. "We're going to meet up with a friend of mine in Lhasa and he'll fly us home to Gotham."

"Oh." Lydia said, eating her bread. They quietly sat on the bench for a while, eating bread and taking sips of the sweet fruit juice. "What's Gotham like?"

Bruce didn't know how to answer. No doubt Ducard had told her some pretty nasty things about Gotham's residents. "Well…it's big and it's loud and it's dirty. And there's a lot of people there."

"Can see why you left," Lydia licked her fingers clean of the sweet juice. "Father told me that there's a lot of bad people there."

"That's true, but there are good people there too." Bruce tried to find the right words. "There are bad people everywhere just as there are good people. And fortunately there are more good people than bad."

"Even in Gotham?"

"Especially in Gotham." Bruce wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "It's just that in Gotham, the bad people have scared the good people into not standing up for themselves."

"Why are they afraid?" Lydia rubbed her eyes. "If there's more good people than bad people, why don't they stand up?"

Bruce scrupled for an answer. He didn't have one for her. "Good question, I don't have an answer." He put the can and bread back in his bag before standing up. "Come on, Lydia." Bruce held out his hand. The little girl took it. "We've got a long walk ahead of us."

* * *

It was near sundown by the time we finally stopped at what looked like an abandoned hut surrounded by miles of nothing and mountains. "Wait here." Bruce said, speaking for the first time in several hours. "I'm going to check it out."

"Ok." I said, sitting down on a nearby boulder. My feet felt like many white-hot knives were stabbing them. They were also wet and tight in my boots. I had never walked for so long or so far before. Not that I complained. But I really wanted to cry. That was how bad that it hurt.

_Don't cry._ I could just hear Father's voice and see his stern blue eyes. _Crying is a sign of weakness. And you are not weak, _are_ you, Lydia?_ No Father, I wanted to say, feeling the tears bite at the corners of my eyes. I'm not weak. I'm strong. A tear rolls down my cheek. _Try harder. You let a tear slip loose. Don't think of the pain. Reflect and meditate as I've tried to teach you. Don't you want to please me? Don't you want to make your father proud?_

Yes, Father. I thought as the tears fell down. "I want to make you proud." I whispered, wiping my face dry.

* * *

It looked safe, Bruce decided as he left the hut. Not much, but compared to what he had been through previously…his thoughts stopped as soon as he saw Lydia sitting on the boulder. Her face was all scrunched up and she wiped at her face with her sleeve.

What was going on…it took him a few seconds to realize why she was looking the way she did…she had been crying. This was the first time he had seen her cry and he felt a little confused. Or more like he didn't know what to do.

"You ok?" Bruce cleared his throat.

She didn't look up. Was she ashamed to look at him? "My feet hurt." Lydia mumbled, still looking at her folded hands in her lap.

He remembered his father's gentle touch and soft voice after he had fallen in that well and broke his arm all those years ago. How it soothed Bruce, how it comforted him…"Let me see." Bruce said gently as he knelt by her and began untying the boot strings. Lydia winced as Bruce began easing one boot off her foot. The woolen sock was caked with blood. No surprise then that the other foot looked pretty bad. "Ouch. That looks like it really hurts." Lydia nodded, still quietly crying.

Now Bruce was really glad he had bought that first aid kit. Hopefully there would be some bandages and antibiotic cream in it. "I'm going to pick you up so you don't have to walk on those feet." Bruce said as he stood up and wrapped his arms around her. Lydia linked her hands around his neck.

* * *

Bruce carried me into the hut. The only furniture inside was a mattress, wooden table and chair. He had put his shoulder bag onto the table and then put me next to that. Sitting down on the chair, he took the first aid kit out of his bag and opened it. "Now let's see what we have in here." Bruce said as he rummaged through the meager supplies inside. There was a tube of antibiotic cream, a roll of gauze and a bottle of hand sanitizer. Taking off his gloves, he rubbed the hand sanitizer all over his hands. "It's ok to cry, just so you know. I know it must hurt pretty bad."

I winced as he peeled off my woolen socks. My feet immediately felt better once he had gotten the socks off. The cool and dry air felt so good against my bare feet. Bruce grimaced as he saw the soles and heels of my feet. "It's just that Father said that crying was a sign of weakness. I'm not weak."

"I never said you were, Lydia." He uncapped the antibiotic cream and squeezed out some white cream. "Hold still." Bruce gently cautioned as I flinched from him rubbing the stuff on my feet. Bruce wrapped the gauze loosely around my feet. "There." He patted the loose ends down.

"Thank you, Bruce." I smiled, feeling warm inside. It sounds incredibly clichéd, but that's what I felt. I can't remember the last time Father had treated me gently just like how Bruce had. I liked that feeling, I realized as I tried to stifle a yawn.

"You've had a big day today." Bruce said, picking me up. "Get some sleep." I leaned against his chest, feeling warm and safe. As I dozed off, I wished the feeling wouldn't end.

* * *

Lydia was asleep by the time Bruce gently put her on the mattress. She didn't stir, instead she curled up. By this point, the sun had long gone down the stars were shining against the dark night sky. Bruce groaned as he stretched out his limbs and sat down in the chair. How good it would be to rest…but now wouldn't be a good time to sleep. No, he had to be on alert in case the League was about. Thank goodness he was used to lack of sleep during his training with the League. After what he had seen today, he knew they were capable of anything.

Besides, something was bothering him. Lydia's question from earlier.

_Why are they afraid? If there's more good people than bad, why don't they stand up?_

He finally grasped the answer. As Falcone and the other crime lords of Gotham had shown their strength, the people needed hope. They needed a sign. A symbol. Bruce slightly shivered as he realized this. It was more out of epiphany. But he could see his breath. It was getting cold out. But he was used to it, Bruce thought as he took off his coat and draped it over Lydia's sleeping form. The coat swamped her, almost hiding her entirely.

That's it. Bruce smiled and leaned back against chair. A plan was beginning to take shape in his mind.

Maybe there would be a way to avenge his parents' deaths after all.

* * *

**A/N**: So how is it, please don't be afraid to critique (constructively please). I don't feel satisfied with it, I feel that I made Bruce too OOC. Please tell me how I can make this better.


	2. A Noise in the Dark

**A/N:** Well this is one story that hasn't seen the light of day in so long. Writer's block and other projects made me push this one off to the side. But something made me decide to return to it and finish it.

With that said, here's chapter two of _According to My Bond_!

* * *

A Noise in the Dark

The sun was just coming up as Bruce decided it was time to leave. Alfred would hopefully be arriving in Lhasa by ten in the morning. They needed to get a move on. He had no idea how much farther away they were. Lydia was still asleep underneath his coat. Bruce thought about waking her up but realized that she was still in no condition to walk with those feet. Fortunately, she wasn't too heavy.

Lydia didn't wake as Bruce picked her up. He rested her on his forearm and she snuggled into the crook of his arm. Bruce felt stronger, like he had a purpose. Not just about saving Gotham but about Lydia. When he fled Gotham seven years ago, he never thought he'd come back. Nor did he think that he'd be caretaker to a nine year old. Now he here was, finally returning home with Lydia in tow.

And that didn't bother him. Not one little bit.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky when Bruce finally came upon the airfield outside Lhasa. There weren't many aircraft on the broken tarmac, mostly cargo and private planes. One of the Cessnas was closest to the road, its door opened and a familiar face came out. Wizened and wrinkled face. Dark blue eyes. Tan suit. Wise smile.

"Master Wayne! It's been far too long." Alfred, faithful butler and father figure, stepped down the stairs.

"Hello, Alfred." Bruce smiled, shifting the still sleeping Lydia to his other arm. How he had missed him…

"You look very fashionable, apart from the mud. And this must be little Lydia." Alfred's eyes seemed to be a little brighter. That was until he saw her bandaged feet.

"Her feet got badly blistered from all the walking she did yesterday. I treated them as best I could." Bruce explained as they boarded the plane.

"I'll get the first aid kit." Alfred said as Bruce put Lydia down on a large and comfortable leather chair. She still slept as he took the coat off and unwrapped her feet. The bandages had done their job well, the bleeding had stopped and Bruce could see the blisters beginning to heal. Alfred brought over the kit and in no time, fresh bandages had been applied.

"Shall I tell the pilots that it's time to leave?" Alfred asked as Bruce buckled Lydia into her seat.

"Yes." Bruce said, putting his coat back over Lydia. "Let's go home."

* * *

Bruce and Alfred didn't speak for a long time. Not until well after they took off and were on their way home. It was just so…awkward…to talk to Alfred, especially having more or less running out on him without saying goodbye. Whether Alfred was being sympathetic to Bruce or having the same feelings was unclear.

It wasn't until Bruce was checking on Lydia that Alfred finally broke the silence. "She's special to you, isn't she?"

Bruce smiled as he smoothed out the coat. "Guess you could say that she grew on me."

"What happened during these past seven years, Master Wayne?" Alfred asked as Bruce sat back down across from him.

Then Bruce began his tale. Alfred remained silent as Bruce described his life from the time he left Gotham. About his arrest and time in prison. How Ducard offered to give him purpose and watching Lydia grow up. The training and ultimatum they gave him. Leaving Ducard and taking Lydia with him.

"Are you coming back to Gotham for long, sir?" Alfred asked once Bruce finished his story.

Bruce looked out the window at the fleecy clouds flying by. "As long as it takes. I'm gonna show the people of Gotham their city doesn't belong to the criminals and the corrupt."

"In the depression, your father nearly bankrupted Wayne Enterprises combating poverty. He believed that his example could inspire the wealthy of Gotham to save their city."

"Did it?" Bruce asked.

"In a way. Their murders shocked the wealthy and the powerful into action." Alfred said, shaking his head.

"People need dramatic examples to shake them out of apathy and I can't do that as Bruce Wayne. As a man I'm flesh and blood. I can be ignored. I can be destroyed. But as a symbol…as a symbol I can be incorruptible. I can be everlasting." Bruce responded bitterly.

Alfred leaned forward in his chair. "What symbol?"

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't thought this far ahead. "Something elemental. Something terrifying."

"I assume that as you're taking on the underworld, this symbol is a persona to protect those you care about from reprisals." Alfred cleared his throat.

"You're speaking about Rachel and Harvey?" Bruce asked, cocking his head.

"Actually sir, I was thinking of myself." Bruce chuckled at Alfred's reply. "And what are you going to do now about Miss Lydia?"

Bruce looked back at the sleeping Lydia. "I'm taking her in, I'll say that her father helped me and asked me to care for her. Which he did." Bruce responded to Alfred before he could say anything back. "Besides, there was no way I was going to leave her there. If her father hadn't been so hell-bent on vengeance, he'd agree with me."

* * *

Where am I? I thought as I woke up. I was inside a tube shaped room, full of nice and comfortable looking chairs. Bruce's coat was still over me. When I tried to get up, I couldn't. I had been buckled into the chair I was sitting in. Pushing off Bruce's coat, I tried to unbuckle the strange contraption around my waist that was keeping me in the chair.

"Lift the flap on the shiny square piece." An elderly voice said to me. I looked up and saw an older gentleman sitting in a comfortable chair across from me, reading a book. Bruce was nowhere in sight. I did as he said and the belt unbuckled with a loud click. "Master Bruce is asleep now in the back." He said when I got up and looked around. My feet felt strange on account of the bandages wrapped around them, like I was wearing really thick socks. They also stung a bit.

"Where am I?"

"Oh, somewhere over California, we'll be home in a couple more hours." He said, putting a bookmark in his book and putting his book down on the table in front of him.

How could we be over California…? Oh that's right, we must be flying home. "You're Bruce's friend." I said, walking over to introduce myself.

"Yes, you can call me Alfred. And Master Bruce has already told me a little bit about you, Miss Lydia." Alfred held out his hand. I shook it. "Now, would you like something to drink?"

"Some water would be nice, please." I sat down in the chair opposite Alfred. He got up and went to a little black square appliance sitting against a wall. After a little bit, he came back with a bottle full of water that had a screw on cap. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Alfred smiled at me as I unscrewed the cap and drank the sweet and clean water inside. "Master Bruce said you really like to read." He said with a sigh as he sat back down.

I took that as my invitation to sit back down. "Uh huh. What are you reading now?" I pointed to his book.

"It's called The Once and Future King by T.H. White. I think it's too big for a little girl to read though."

"Isn't that about King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table?" I asked, having recognized the title.

"Very good." Alfred said, raising an eyebrow.

"My father had a copy of it in his library." I smiled, remembering Father reading some of it aloud to me when I was small. "He had many books there, surprising, considering we lived in the middle of nowhere."

"What other books did he have?" Alfred asked.

"Let's see…" I tried to remember. "Victor Hugo. Thomas Hardy. Charles Dickens. Chaucer. Sophocles. Edgar Allan Poe. Ayn Rand. Dante Alighieri. Marcus Aurelius….and many, many more that I can't remember off the top of my head."

Alfred's eyes widened. "My goodness. That _is_ very impressive. I bet you've read many of them."

I smiled. "A couple of them. Father read others to me. And when you have very little to do, you keep your mind busy any way you can."

"What was your favorite?"

"He had a complete collection of Shakespeare. I loved that the best probably." The thought of those books burning up made me sad.

"I don't know if Master Bruce has told you this or not, but we have a very big collection of books in our private library."

"I could spend all day in there then." I was excited and wondering what else Bruce hadn't told me…which was quite a bit.

"Then at least we'll know where to find you. When you're not in school that is." Alfred chuckled.

"School?" I asked.

"You'll be enrolled in school when we get there. Plenty of children there to play with. Master Bruce also told me that you were a bit of a lonely child."

"There weren't any other children at the compound. I think out of all of the people there, Bruce was probably the closest in age. Probably why I grew attached to him in the first place."

There was the sound of somebody walking up to Alfred. It was Bruce, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Hey Lydia, how are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you." I said. "And you?"

"Me too. I see you've met Alfred." Bruce said. "Everything's set to go, Alfred?"

"Yes. Oh and Ms. Rachel helped me acquire some new clothes for Miss Lydia. We had to guess on the size."

"New clothes?" I asked, looking down at my dress. "My clothes are still in good shape." The only time I got new clothes was when they were damaged beyond repair or I outgrew them.

"Yes, but nobody wears what you're wearing. It'll help you fit in better." Bruce explained.

"Oh…" I still didn't see what the issue was though.

* * *

They landed at one of Gotham's much smaller airports a few hours later. Bruce watched as Lydia looked out the window, her face wide with awe. The clothes Rachel and Alfred had picked out for her were a little big but they worked. Jeans, a Hello Kitty T-shirt and matching pink hooded jacket. The pink Sketchers sneakers covered her blistered feet just fine. After they landed and the pilots went to open the door, Bruce gently scooped her up and carried her off the plane.

"Bruce, I think I can walk. Thank you though." Lydia said, wriggling a little bit.

"Ok." Bruce carefully put Lydia down. "But if your feet hurt you, let me know, ok?"

"Ok." She smiled and took his hand.

It was a surprisingly bright and clear day, the first nip of autumn was in the air. He remembered Gotham as overcast and cloudy. Off in the distance, he could see the Gotham skyline.

To Bruce's surprise, Harvey and Rachel were waiting for them off the tarmac with a second hand van and another car. They were holding hands and dressed conservatively. Must've been a court date, Bruce mused, remembering that they had been training to be lawyers when he ran off some seven years previously. Also with them was an adolescent aged boy, surely no older than twelve. He looked a little sullen with wide brown eyes and very short black hair.

Then it finally hit Bruce. Harvey and Rachel were married now. They just had to be. Looking at their hands, Bruce made out the telltale golden bands on their fingers. He didn't know what to think. It wasn't disappointment…they were beginning to date when he left Gotham…but it was difficult seeing them together. Why, he didn't know.

"Bruce, it's been too long." Harvey said, shaking Bruce's hand before hugging him. All his conflicted feelings disappeared. It felt good to be with his best friends again.

"It's good to see you again, Harvey." Bruce said before turning to Rachel. "Rachel." She still smelled of her favorite lilac perfume. It was nice to know some things hadn't changed.

"Welcome home, Bruce." Rachel said before noticing Lydia. She squatted to get down to her level. She hadn't lost her love of children then. "You must be Lydia, it's really nice to meet you."

Lydia hid behind Bruce. "She's a little shy." Bruce explained to Harvey and Rachel before gently squeezing Lydia's hand. She came out slowly. "These are my friends, Harvey and Rachel."

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am." Lydia bobbed a little curtsey, getting the adults to laugh a little bit.

"You don't need to call me that. I hear that enough every day from the courthouse where I work. Just call me Rachel." Rachel said, offering her hand.

"And you can call me Harvey." Harvey shook Lydia's hand before waving the boy over. "This is my nephew, John Blake. John, come over here and say hi to Bruce and Lydia."

"It's nice to meet you, John." Bruce said, holding out his hand. The boy shook his hand. Bruce recognized the look on the young man's face. He had his parents ripped from him too.

"Likewise." John said curtly before nodded at Lydia. "Nice to meet you, Lydia."

"You too." She said.

"Why don't we grab your bags and go back to Wayne Manor, huh?" Harvey asked. "We've got a lot of catching up to do." He said. "So much has happened in Gotham since then."

"I'd like to join you guys, but I need to get home and go over some case files for tomorrow. Do you want to go with them John?" Rachel asked. "Bruce's house is a pretty neat place."

"No thanks, Aunt Rachel, I've got some homework." John said, brusque. Bruce immediately felt some sympathy for the boy. He remembered being in his shoes and feeling the same anger consume him whole.

"Oh ok, then we'll be getting home. It's good seeing you again, Bruce." Rachel said before giving Harvey a peck on the cheek.

* * *

Bruce's home was so big…it reminded me of a castle. I gaped at it as Harvey drove us through the big gates and up the driveway. Alfred chuckled when he saw me. "That's Wayne Manor. Your new home. It's where Master Bruce grew up."

The inside proved to be just as impressive as the outside. "Hey Alfred, why don't you show Lydia her room and get her something to eat? I'd like to catch up with Harvey, if that's ok?"

"Yes, it's perfectly fine." Alfred said before offering me his hand. "I think you'll like your new room, Miss Lydia. How are your feet feeling though?"

"They're good." I immediately lied. Of course they hurt. As soon as I had somewhere comfortable to sit down, then I'd be sitting down for sure. Alfred led me upstairs and down one of the long hallway. "This place looks more like a museum."

"Of course, this house is well over two hundred years old. Master Bruce's grandparents were world travelers in their own right and quite the collectors." We stopped in front of one of the doors. "And this is your room." He opened the door.

My room was a pretty nice size. Back at the compound in Tibet, I had shared my quarters with Father. It wasn't much, two beds in a small room along with two trunks of clothing. Nothing much, just a place to sleep. This room was at least twice that, a large bay window overlooking the green lawns. The furniture was formal, a huge four poster canopy bed in the corner, dresser and desk, all made of dark oak. But there was a huge bookshelf next to the attached bathroom. And two very comfortable looking chairs.

"I didn't know what your tastes were, but when Mrs. Dent…sorry, that's Ms. Rachel…" Alfred said to my confused look. "Has a free day, then we'll go out and get things for your room."

"Thank you, Alfred." I said.

"How about I leave you to get settled in? I'll get dinner ready. Is there anything in particular you like?"

My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten since the bread and kumquat juice I had yesterday. "Whatever you have is fine and thank you, Alfred."

"You're welcome." Alfred smiled and left. Immediately, I went over to the bookshelf and looked over the titles. I had never heard of some of the titles or authors. But I was a hungry reader and vowed to make time for them. Soon, I had found a collection of short stories and poems by Edgar Allan Poe. Father had read some of them aloud to me so at least they were familiar.

I curled up in one of the comfortable chairs and began to read. Strangely enough, if I concentrated hard enough, I could almost hear Father's soft voice reading them aloud just as he did when I was little.

Back when he had more time for me.

A sadness pricked my heart. I closed the book and put it down, thinking of my once happy family. My hand moved to touch the locket, before I remembered that I had given it to Bruce to buy food.

It had to be done, I reminded myself. Otherwise we would've starved.

But I still felt guilty.

That locket was the only thing I had left of my mother. I tried to remember her. She had light blue eyes and she loved to laugh. But she had died when I was very small…Father didn't like talking about her. I think it hurt him too much.

I was still lost in thought when Alfred came back. "I've got some supper ready in the kitchen." He smiled nicely. It made me hurt all the more.

"Thank you, Alfred." I put a smile on my face and followed him.

* * *

Bruce sat up in the library, his head resting on his touching fingertips. It was dark outside now. The sun had set earlier in the day, a sure sign that autumn was upon them.

He had been pondering what Harvey had told him before leaving several hours before. He had been elected D.A. of Gotham some four months before, taking over after the previous D.A. Carl Finch was brutally murdered. He and Rachel had done as much as they could. But it was hopeless. The law could only do so much.

The people of Gotham needed a symbol.

Bruce sighed as she looked over the newspapers sprawled over the library floor. He had leads to investigate. But no way to do that. He needed to show the scumbags of Gotham that they didn't have control over the city anymore. Fight fire with fire. He would use fear to attack Gothamites who used fear to get their way. But what could he become?

Someone was watching him from the library doorway. Bruce turned to see Lydia standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a pink pair of pajamas, her feet rewrapped in fresh bandages. Something about her face worried him. "You ok, Lydia?"

"No, I was just wondering where you were. That's all." Lydia shrugged.

She was hiding something. Bruce felt sorry for her. "You want to come here and talk about it?" He sat up and held his arms open as his father used to. Lydia walked over and sat down on his lap, resting the crown of her head beneath her chin. Bruce hugged her, letting her snuggle into his sweater. Her hand balled into a fist next to her face.

They sat there quietly, the only sound was the ticking of the clock. Bruce knew better than to interrogate her. She was probably homesick and wanting some comfort. Just as he used to after his parents were gunned down.

Lydia's eyelids began to droop and she eventually fell asleep. Time for bed. Bruce decided with a smile as he carefully stood up and carried Lydia down to her room. The lamp beside the bed was on, painting the room in a soft glow. Of course Alfred had made sure to turn the sheets down and the pillows were fluffed. A book sat on the nightstand.

Lydia didn't move as Bruce put her down and tucked the sheets around her. Bruce watched her sleep for a few moments, lost in old memories of once being part of a loving family.

A rustling noise interrupted his thoughts. Bruce looked up. A bat was fluttering in a corner of the ceiling. Part of him flinched. A bat…he had forgotten how frightened he was of them…it was his phobia that had gotten his parents killed all those years ago.

It was something he had never really forgiven himself for. It was something he could never forget…

At once he had his answer. He knew what he'd become. He'd become the thing that frightened him the most; a bat. Bruce opened the window so the poor creature would have a chance to escape. It seemed to notice the window and sailed out, disappearing into the blackness. Apt creature, Bruce reflected. Swift. Silent. Fond of darkness. Associated with evil but in reality did many good things.

"Blessed bats sir." Alfred said from the doorway of Lydia's room. "They have a nest somewhere on the grounds."

Of course…Bruce remembered the well he had fallen into so long ago. How the bats seemed to swarm out of the black hole. It must've led to a cave.

Bruce resolved to go down into the old well as he shut the window. He finally understood what Ducard said all those years ago; he must become more than a man.

* * *

**A/N:** My biggest concern here is that Lydia sounds/acts too much like an adult and not like a child. I'm trying to show that Ducard made her grow up too fast during their time in the League of Shadows.

On a final note: I wish to extend my prayers and sympathies to those who were affected, injured or killed in the explosions of Boston and West Texas. May they find comfort, healing and peace in this time.


End file.
